


Changeling

by the17thmuse



Series: Song and Ash, Sword and Ruin [1]
Category: Original Work
Genre: Alternate Universe - Supernatural Elements, Casual Violence, Gen, Implied Resurrection, Science Fiction & Fantasy, Soul Theft, Trauma, Unreliable Spelling Changes Because of Language Differences, blue and orange morality
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-10-06
Updated: 2020-06-22
Packaged: 2020-11-26 04:22:47
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 6
Words: 6,834
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20924099
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/the17thmuse/pseuds/the17thmuse
Summary: Aleas is an empathic and impulsive rebel hidden behind a cold and rational scientist exterior.Temerdul is a relentless and terrifying lone executor of doom (justice) when he's not being an absolute doormat.Together, a multi-dimensional creature and an immortal vigilante navigate co-parenthood over Aleas' illegally created murderous offspring. That is, if their personal issues, their enemies and the interdimensional cold war going on don't end them first.





	1. Cat Sidhe

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Lilili_cat](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lilili_cat/gifts).
  * Inspired by [Hidden in Stagnant Pools](https://archiveofourown.org/works/20920742) by [Lilili_cat](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lilili_cat/pseuds/Lilili_cat). 
**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _Aliyas-Raker-of-Storms_ was five solar cycles into its pilgrimage when it finally chanced upon perfection.
> 
> (_What great potential._)
> 
> Its now and no one else's. (_Mine._)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The people of the Scottish Highlands believed that the Cat Sidhe could steal a person's soul, before it was claimed by the gods, by passing over a corpse before burial. Therefore, watches called the Feill Fadalach (Late Wake) were performed night and day to ward the creature off. In addition, there were no fires where the body lay, as it was said that it was attracted to the warmth.

The soul was human. Alone, _abandoned_. 

No harvesters in sight. _(How strange.) _

Cause-of-death most likely self-inflicted due to the sheer amount of damage. 

_Tsk._ A slow and _agonizing_ death. And yet, not a single detail of damage can be attributed to the traumatic end. 

How even _stranger._

Implosion, however, is imminent. _(Ah, and so that is why.)_

How...fortunate. 

Such cases are beyond the ability of local reapers, naturally. But for it, not so much. 

(Just makes things easier for it to reshape, reform, to rebuild and mold to a much better purpose.)

The poor thing, mired in suffering and tragedy, and it shone all the more beautifully because of it. 

And what is this?

The soul _sang_ in the chords of_ Ameiu._

A born singer. A _natural._

Well, now...

#

_Aliyas-Raker-of-Storms_ was five solar cycles into its pilgrimage when it finally chanced upon perfection. 

(_What great potential._) 

Its now and no one else's. (_Mine._)

Resonance was a very serious matter; the entire existence of reality built on the song of creation. 

_Void-spawning-death-casters_ not quite belonging to the choir, initially only multiplying on the merciful whims of the _Great-Devouring-Shadow-that-Slumbers-Deep_ as it twists and turns and shapes the _Sea-of-stars_, but now...human souls could be taken. 

Lost ones. Abandoned ones. Broken ones. 

(The _Ghost-of-Nahamhatura_'s retribution against the Thief.)

_Void-spawning-death-casters_ are perpetuators, not thieves. (They keep what had not been taken but given freely.) 

Not like the human "High King Zee-vrul", when he stole _Nahamhatura-Who-Keeps-the-Peace_, and begat _Siberlass-half-human_ from their unnatural _union_. 

And now, human souls could be taken. 

(Zee-vrul's descendants found out too late that all actions have consequences.)

#

_Aliyas_ looks at the soul again, considering. 

_Tem'dul-Bringer-of-Retribution_ will not really want to see this. He definitely would not. 

(But _Aliyas_ found it likes to tease the human. To see the light of awe and uncertainty war in his eyes.) 

It wonders how he will react to co-parenthood. (That is what humans call the term, is it not?) 

Perhaps delicious shock-fear-panic? Maybe he will faint? 

The _Void-spawning-death-caster_ hums at the thought.

_Aliyas_ carefully shelters the slowly disintegrating soul in its cold, unliving claws, and leaps between the shadows of the _Sea-of-stars_.

_Am'alya-the-broken-that-will-be-made-whole_, it decides, will make a passable temporary name. 

Until the young one will decide otherwise, of course.

_Aliyas_ cannot wait to meet them. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In the not-to-far future, _Am'alya_ will change their name to _Am'yicti-the-cold-that-creeps._ They will fall into to a war-torn garden world while on an errand and forget (...or perhaps, remember). They will be drawn to the many orphan children and want to take their aches and pains away without knowing why. Some dumb (or just really brave) pyromaniac of a human will mistake them for a monster responsible for some plague and they will show him his error...by beating him in a fight. Then the two will end up having a ridiculous amount of (mis)adventures.


	2. Danse Macabre

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _Aliyas_ lacks all practical aspects of creating and raising such a powerhouse. It must be mad, truly. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The Danse Macabre, also called the Dance of Death, is an artistic allegory on the universality of death, that no matter one's station in life, Death unites all.

Studying the little soul once it was stabilized in a controlled environment, the _Void-spawning-death-caster_ reconsiders some of its initial observations and plans. No major alterations were needed, by the mercy of the _Great-Devouring-Shadow-that-Slumbers-Deep._

It was a lot more salvageable than _Aliyas_ first thought. (And how fortunate it decided to indulge its curiosity after sensing the strangely happy yet agonizingly slow death throes the first time.)

The various imprints of trauma are there: physical, mental, emotional. But determining which particular ones were the worst off was almost impossible to tell, as they blended into each other seamlessly. 

Too seamlessly it was systematic.

Inflicted by true experts of the craft, if they could be called that.

_Aliyas_ isolates at least three sources of the most distinct influences. Attachments that kept the deepest, most scarring impressions.

And of the three, two possess a familial 'taste'. The last one is...interestingly a tangled mess of _enemy-not-enemy._

It is no _singer-sorcerer_,_ worldsmith-starforger_ or _necromance-remembrancer_.

But still.

Even _it_ is capable enough of distinguishing the elaborate emotional imprints of sweet clear unconditional _creation-kin-trust-wonder-love_ that grew increasingly intertwined with acidic notes of _fear-anger-hurt_, and finally, the sudden sharpness of _shock-betrayal-WHY_ and the discordant crescendo of _flee__-pain-pain-pain-pain-PAIN-KILLME-KILLMEKILLMEPLEASEKILLMEPLEASEKILLMEPLEASELETMEDIEPLEASE__PLEASEsweetrelief—_

_Aliyas_ would have been a lot more fascinated and curious to explore that route further. Had it not been partial to this particular soul and had the discovery occurred during its pre-Pilgrimage days.

It had never inflicted such a personal level of trauma on a soul or a body of flesh before. Too detached to commit to anything 'personal' and part of what made it a near-perfect _healer-fleshripper-torturer _for then_ Siberlass-half-human _who is now_ Sibiras-Slayer-of-Kings._

And souls tend to be very impressionable and fragile despite their lack of physical substance and perceived immortality.

Stripping it of all memory impressions and preset individuality would be losing the point of using a soul in the first place. It has no desire to start everything from scratch.

It actually wants this solitary project to finish _within the century_. Perhaps a partial buffer will do while it figures out all the kinks.

There will be no telling if any adverse or stranger effects will take root as it coverts the soul into a proper core matrix. _Void-spawning-death-casters_ tend to use copies or ghost memory impressions of souls after all, or the disintegrated fragments of one. And definitely never near-whole, still partially alive, intact ones. 

The poor thing truly hadn't been completely dead yet when _Aliyas_ found it, not at all. And the soul's attempt to cross over _while still in the process of dying_ had caused it to begin imploding in on itself. Whether purposely or not, circumstances had forced its hand. 

And, well, technicalities. It wasn't quite _stealing_ from the local afterlife if the soul wasn't quite _dead_ yet. Merely an intervention of a 'concerned' outside party. (_Creator would be so proud._)

It had been planning on creating offspring for some time now, but this was still a surprise.

But, alas, _Aliyas_ never created any contingencies should it encounter a soul with such a strong_ singer_-distinct alignment. 

_Singers..._who tend to be the most temperamental of all. Dominators of astro-weather, masters of the _songs_ of void and light. 

_Aliyas_ lacks all practical aspects of creating and raising such a powerhouse. There is no choice but to make do with what materials there are on hand. 

It must be mad, truly. 

A _singer_ core-matrix matched with mixed material from a _healer-fleshripper-torturer_ and a _worldsmith-starforger_? 

What will come out of it is going to be...unpredictable.

_Sibiras'_ exploratory research on the more unique aspects of soul-forging and the creation of cross-alignment matrices may not be enough to go on.

And actually applying it on a living-in-limbo, intact and traumatized soul instead of a properly detached and dead one?

Completely. Unprecedented. 

Inconceivable, that _Aliyas_ will essentially be going in blind. Such a breach of protocol it will not even fit the parameters of any rational experiment.

Even if it tries. (And _Aliyas_ has never broken a rule in its entire existence.)

_Aliyas_ is not ready for this. (But it wants to do this very much.)

It should not do this. With all the risks, the possibility of failure is too high. 

But _Aliyas_ is going to do it anyway, high failure rate or not.

It had always been too curious for its own good. 

(Is this what excitement of the forbidden feels like?)

#

When it returns to _Tem'dul_ to give the wonderful news, the human finds a corner to stare at in contemplation of having a mid-life (or any age, really) crisis for a good solid few minutes. And the _Void-spawning-death-caster_ congratulates itself on a task well done. 

It had finally done the impossible: rendering this particular human speechless.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Lilili_cat, I tried, I truly did try. *headdesks*


	3. Black Swan

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Red eyes are not common at all. 
> 
> There are no red eyes among any of _Aliyas_' kind.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The Black Swan theory is a metaphor that describes an event that comes as a surprise, has a major effect, and is often inappropriately rationalized after the fact with the benefit of hindsight. The term was based on an ancient saying that once presumed black swans did not exist – a saying that became reinterpreted to teach a different lesson after black swans were discovered in the wild.

_Am'alya_ keeps on breaking their limbs.

_Aliyas_ fixes them, replaces material, makes it better, sturdier. And _Am'alya_ exceeds their too-thin, multi-jointed appendages to their limits as they explore their each-and-every boundary, and breaks them again. And again. And again. Again.

Such curious eyes, wide, bright and full to the brim with _vita_, are enchanted by the routine of breaking and fixing. Breaking and fixing. Of coming apart and being made anew.

They feel no pain, only wonder.

And until the protoform grows more mass, layers and dimensions, until they develop a voracious appetite for high-energy matter to match their inquisitive exploration, _Am'alya_ will continue the cycle of learning, of being broken, and being fixed.

And _Aliyas_ has no choice but to let them.

(_Aliyas_ reminds itself that it lacks the capacity to be tired. It does not sleep. It does not beg or despair. Others beg and despair at the sight of _it_.)

_Am'alya_ opens their pretty sharp-toothed maw (full of too-many and too-sharp mother-of-pearl teeth of too-strange colors) and releases a sharp thrilling cry that can be heard from one end of this dimension to the end of a few other ones. (And _Aliyas_ does not sigh, because it does not have lungs to do so.)

Something that is not of the physical world shatters, and _Tem'dul_ crumples to the ground as he dies of a stroke for the umpteenth time that day. _Aliyas_ takes quick a look just to make sure the besotted fool landed on a wet pile of discarded skins and hides set aside for just that purpose. (Something about not liking waking up on the cold, stiff and dirty floor. The _void-spawning-death-caster _does not understand his priorities sometimes. He's _dead_. Currently a corpse and therefore has no room to complain about in-between resurrection arrangements.)

_Aliyas_ will monitor him later, of course. To make sure nothing in his return from death goes awry, as they say. The perks of having a _healer-fleshripper-torturer_ with a human pet. Or was it a wanted vigilante with a _void-spawning-death-caster_ pet? 

_Aliyas_ cocks its head to one side, the equivalent of a shrug. Whichever one is more accurate to describe their situation, it is unsure of, as it had been unsure in numerous situations lately.

#

One of such incidents happened when _Am'alya_ first opened their eyes and revealed red orbs. Not black, not blue or violet or silver-white. 

(Such an odd color to find on a being of death, that shade of lifeblood.)

Red eyes are not common at all. 

There are no red eyes among any of _Aliyas_' kind.

(These do not exist.)

The red eyes of _vita_, the marker of the life magics of flesh-and-blood sorcerers. 

A sign of the _Sea-of-Chaos-of-Creation-of-Life_. 

No. A _claim_.

When it had first beheld them, it had half a mind to rip them out. To understand it, figure out the why's—surely it was a mistake, a _mutation_ in the programming—to redo the process, to correct or to replicate it. To _hide_ it. To take it away.

(It is not a _thief, _and _Aliyas _raged. The soul was _alone. Unclaimed._ Its and no one else's. _Its offspring now and for all eternity._) 

The _Sea-of-Chaos-of-Creation-of-Life_ and the _Great-Devouring-Shadow-that-Slumbers-Deep_ are antithesis. Natural enemies of the other. And so too, did all their offspring and creation follow this design.

(_Am'alya_ will be cast as an outsider or a curiosity. Either one or the other or both. Not out of any conscious choice of design or desire of change. And that just will _not do_.)

But. 

_Am'alya_'s original human-self used to have these eyes, did it not?

It...should be enough of an explanation. However, _Aliyas_ cannot recall if other albino souls had been used as soul matrices before, if the excuse could stand on its own.

And if not, if it must involve the subject of _Sibiras_ and the taboos of _her_ creation.

_Aliyas_ does not know if _Sibiras_, too, had been born with red eyes. If hers had eventually changed into the starlight of silver-white shade of death. (The same as _Tem'dul_'s after his first resurrection, aeons before he came to his working arrangement with it.) 

And if not...

Then it should pique her interest, surely. Enough so that it won't suffer an extremely long-winded lecture on family concern and other hard-to-understand human emotion constructs when it will eventually be forced to seek her audience. The way she would find her amusement in its awkward suffering, hopefully.

If _Am'alya_'s distinct eyes has nothing to do with albinism and everything to do with living, however... only _Sibiras_ will be able to answer that. _Nahamhatura_ had, unfortunately, self-terminated long, long ago, even before its time, and _Sibiras_ had never forgiven her sire. 

No one outside _Sibiras_ and her contemporaries involved in that...skirmish actually knows or remembers the original name of "Zee-vrul". Or anything of his empire, history or his bloodline, dynasty, much less the name of the planet he lived on. Or if any of his descendants still live. (_Aliyas_ personally doubts it, but that thinking is too...kind. _Sibiras_ is _nice_. And never, ever, kind.) 

For when _Sibiras_ wants to destroy something so that nothing of it is left she can be very thorough about it. 

But destroying something doesn't always mean utter obliteration, no. 

(The statements should have been: No one else knows if the planet still exists _as it is_. If its people still exist _as they are_. )

Death is a mercy, but mercy is a fate worse than death, after all.

And_ Sibiras_ treasures kin. But she beholds them in their way and not the human way. 

Fire over alloy. Bond over bone. Choice over blood.

("Zee-vrul" and most of _Sibiras_' flesh-and-blood relatives never really stood a chance.)

#

So after _Aliyas_ saw the eyes, after it struggled and made its choice, it had knelt and held the newly created hatchling, full-sized and as helpless as any displaced predatory animal, in its grasp.

Sent _Tem'dul_, who had never witnessed an Origination before, back to a much safer distance for both his ears and sanity—it needed him alive and intact for this—and spoke the first words.

"Little killer," it crooned. 

In the guttural rumble of grinding tectonic plates and the screech of metal on metal. In the song of creaking bones and the pulse of blood rushing. Freezing water ripping. Hooks and chains and bodies being dragged on the floor. Flesh squelching. Torn throats screaming. 

"You are Am'alya. the-broken-that-will-be-made-whole. No one will touch you. No one will hurt you."

It dug its claws deep enough to break the thin layer of frost and lightly dent the regenerative metalloid underneath. Brought the already agitated hatchling's scattered attentions to focus toward its direction.

"No one but me. For now. You are mine to protect."

The newly-named _Am'alya_'s eyes were dilated and feral, fixated and instinctively enraged at the concentration of _vita_ somewhere behind _Aliyas_.

Perfect. 

Now, for the first kill. What _Sibiras_ ceremonially once referred to as the _Darkening-of-the-First-Light_.

"You know what to do," it said aloud.

Then _Aliyas_ stood, and turned, and tossed a murderous _Am'alya_ right at _Tem'dul_'s surprised face.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Vita - the essence of life; manifests as the color red, like lifeblood; the irises of spellcasters that cast spells fueled by vita temporarily turn red during casting
> 
> **Warnings:** blue and orange morality, implied resurrection and casual violence
> 
> Just a friendly reminder that _Aliyas_ is not human and will therefore have different standards of what is acceptable and unacceptable. Like having no problems with the many deaths of a companion who doesn't permanently stay dead anyway.


	4. Chaoskampf

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Not quite one of the strangest situations he's been subjected to, really. But. Did the Voidspawn flesh-flayer really expect him to kill its own offspring with nary a glance?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chaoskampf depicts some variation of a battle between a culture hero deity (usually a storm god) and a chaos monster (often in the shape of a serpent or dragon) representing the clash between the forces of order and chaos, or good and evil.
> 
> A bit of a POV change because Temerdul decided it's his turn to be the narrator. Note how he spells his name and everyone else's. That's because Aliyas' language is more sound-based than anything. Temerdul's would actually be the more accurate spelling if their names were ever written down.
> 
> Terms and names can change between languages, like John can be Jon, Johann, Jean, Sean, Ianto, Hans, Evan, Chon, Dzon, Giuan and every variant in between. 
> 
> Also, I really have no idea how much a fight scene needs to be described down to the minute details every time I write one, and this the fourth one I've written in my entire life. Enjoy and hopefully, you don't become too confused with the changes.

"No one will touch you. No one will hurt you. No one but me. For now. You are mine to protect."

The words strike a chord in Temerdul, and he remembers the limbo in between life and death. Remembers _her_ voice speaking, and he freezes in shock.

(He never expects to hear those words again, not when he hasn't heard them in millennia.)

Then Aleas breaks his reverie. "You know what to do."

He spins away from the path of the Voidspawn and dives for one of the many metal-cutting blades scattered on the corpse tables. Just as Amalla adjusts their momentum to land on the far wall toes first, then onto the adjacent side, using them as a two-step springboard to change their trajectory back to him.

Temerdul, blade in hand, pushes away and ducks under a swipe of a razor-sharp claw that could have parted skin and muscle as easily as butter, then gets caught by a low kick to the side that upends him. Rolling with the hit, the man barely manages to raise his blade just as Amalla swings their own stolen one downwards. 

He meets a few more frenzied blows of varying intensity (that chips away at both blades as frost creeps from one to the other at point of contact), and despite the essence of death augmenting his anatomy, the impacts jar him down to the teeth. 

When he finally gets a chance he shrimps to the side and gets his bearings while keeping an eye on the Voidspawn, who certainly shouldn't be able to hold their makeshift sword with a vague familiarity, much less be moving that fast for something made of ice and metal.

They trade a few more blows, Amalla mixing claw and blade (but mostly claw, and sometimes snarling teeth and the occasional headbutt), while Temerdul concentrates on dodging and fighting on the defensive, until his opponent's blade finally shatters. 

The upper end of Temerdul's sword, too, warps and breaks with a snap after cutting through the Voidspawn's ulnar 'bone', and then it was hand-to-hand-and-a-broken-blade, the human not giving Amalla a single inch of direct contact again. 

It is easier not to think, falling into the rhythm of dodging and whirling, blocking, feinting and striking.

However, his fingers and side continue to grow alarmingly numb the longer they went on. 

After managing to stab the broken blade through a thin multi-jointed wrist, Temerdul forgoes any thought of caution and continues into Amalla's personal space, stabbing them through the torso and taking advantage of inertia to pin them to the wall like a collector's insect specimen. 

Amalla narrows their red cat-like eyes at him in a very human expression of annoyance, snarling, but stays rooted on the spot, slowly pulling on the blade impaling them. 

Temerdul barely manages to avoid pausing at the expression on the Voidspawn's face as he slowly retreats backwards, the sound of metal grinding on metal ringing in his ears.

"What. In the .Ten. Hells," he growls at Aleas, who was watching the entire thing with what he recognizes is a fascinated light in its moonstone eyes. 

Not quite one of the strangest situations he's been subjected to, really. But. Did the Voidspawn flesh-flayer really expect him to kill its own offspring with nary a glance?

"We are born feral and ever mad at the light of life that hurts our senses," Aleas speaks. "For everything was at first nothing but the emptiness of the void, and creation and life were but a series of accidents. The _aether_ that flows in your essence cannot hide the truth that your are of the living and must be destroyed."

Temerdul cannot help but huff in wry amusement at that. "Gods and demons have tried and failed. Though, I've never been threatened by a newborn Voidspawn before." He frowns. "A warning would have been nice."

Aleas' mocking head turn tells him that it technically did give him a warning and Temerdul tut-tuts back. 

Voidspawn. Once you encounter one, you can't live _with_ them. And you can't live _without _them either.

Aleas slithers past the human and Amalla hisses at the healer's approach, a strange sound between grinding stone, white noise, and tittering water that makes a trickle of blood run down the human's ears, as the healer eyes its creation impassively.

Amalla glares at the biggest predator in the room and moves to attack, and while Aleas may not be a fighter itself (and has lost a lot of mass from supplying its matter for the creation of Amalla), it has spent centuries in the company of those well-versed in the art.

The healer and flesh-flayer (who has lost several tons worth of alloy and is now lighter and faster) now easily worms its way past their defenses, snagging the newborn by the lower jaw and neck with the thickest of their many tentacle-tails, and slams them headfirst into the wall with great force. Spiderweb cracks spread across their face and Aleas clicks its maw in warning. 

The newborn stills in the sudden silence. Waiting. Waiting. Then the healer slowly lets them go. 

Amalla shuffles back, posture half-stooped and eyes still wary, but it does nothing except observe them with wide eyes. Even more silence. Then it croons piteously.

"Well, well," Aleas blinks, assessing. "You are a remarkable little thing, aren't you?"

Another one of its tentacle-tails uncurls and presents something bloody, something large, bellowing and moving agitatedly, which the Voidspawn eagerly snatches up. And then there is nothing but the sounds of limbs and teeth snapping, flesh ripping apart and bones breaking.

"What was that all about?" Temerdul asks, a shaking hand cradling his side. 

"Newborns have the tendency to attack everything, even their own creator or creators. Such is why Originations are usually done in isolation. Once a hierarchy is established, teaching them to control their killing urges will be easier. However, it will take at least a decade before they completely stop instinctively going for the kill and challenging other beings and what they perceive as prey."

Aleas weaves its fingers over Amalla's crest in a poor attempt at affection, which the newborn latches onto. "This one seems to be particularly smart though. It took me almost a decade and a half before I realized the power gap and completely stopped attacking my own creator."

Temerdul sighs. "Of course. Given how stubborn you are, I'm not really surprised." He gives Amalla a wary look. "I suppose this one wasn't supposed to possess their current skill set? And what makes you so certain they will stop coming after us now?"

Aleas slithers to him. "This soul matrix of this one was either a trained killer or a very quick learner. Maybe even a bit of both. Amalla may try again when we prove to be inadequate teachers in any way. But that will be many years away."

Temerdul shakes his head in disbelief, eyeing Amalla's disturbingly humanoid form. "Where did you even find this one?"

"Unknown. I had not been looking for them specifically, a mere random encounter."

The human takes a moment to decipher Aleas-non-speak. 

"You took a shortcut you shouldn't have taken and stumbled into it, didn't you? Maybe unwittingly pissed someone off when you passed their territory. Do we have to move again?" he jokes. "It's been getting really difficult finding estate on uninhabited ice moons."

"You have hypothermia and the beginnings of frostbite in your fingers and left ribs. Perhaps you should allow me to take a look at it first," comes the dry remark.

Temerdul guffaws then abruptly coughs to the side as he chokes on his own spit. He gasps out, "I'll be...taking that...as an affirmative then."

Aleas ignores him, which makes the human smug. Definitely called it.

Then Temerdul sees something that makes him stop. "Aleas," he starts, "Your spawn is feeding on prey. I thought your kind does not hunt to eat."

"A mere remnant from those possessing soul matrices" the healer replies. "The urge will pass as they age."

Amalla watches him while digging through the carcass, occasionally taking a chunk of bloody meat or bone and taking a bite. They eye Temerdul with an unblinking lizard stare for a few seconds, and deeming him satisfactory in some way, hands him something wet and dripping. 

The human takes what is offered and gets a good look at the thing. 

It is a spleen. How lovely. 

Temerdul tries to give it back but the Voidspawn stares him into submission with their wide red eyes. (How they somehow remind him of a disappointed child he does not understand. They just somehow pull it off.)

"They want you to have it, so be the greater predator and take the offering." Aleas calls out unhelpfully from the back, already reorganizing its many tools of the trade with much ease. As if being handed out organs by a newborn something who tried to kill the human is somehow a normal occurrence.

Temerdul makes a face. "You...want me to eat this?" he asks the newborn, who does not stop staring somewhere at his torso. "Sweetbreads or the liver would be better. The former is creamier and the latter is more nutritious."

Amalla does not blink and continues boring into him.

"No? You want me to..." Temerdul then realizes that the his companion's offspring is looking where he had taken a blow from their fight. "You want me...to replace my spleen. Because you broke it. Huh."

He looks at the Voidspawn thoughtfully. "I do not require my organs to be replaced. I will heal. However," he rummages through the carcass before finding his prize and tearing it out, "your knowledge on food is lacking. What you need to feed on first is the liver. The most nutritious of the organs. Richest in iron. Then the kidneys, spleen" he shakes the hand holding said part for emphasis "then the heart and the brain." 

He points to each of the specific areas, and Amalla listens. They make a very good listener.

Maybe Temerdul can get used to this parenting thing. Provided that Aleas doesn't pull out another surprise like this for another few centuries. Maybe forever. Just once is enough for him.

(A small part of him feels that his interaction with Amalla is familiar somewhat. That he has done this—teaching a child to hunt game perhaps—before. He ignores it for now, planning on exploring the elusive thought much later.)

Then Amalla tries biting a thigh bone whole and Temerdul moves into action, thought already forgotten again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And this entire thing in a nutshell:
> 
> Temerdul: Why is your baby trying to kill me
> 
> Aliyas: Stop asking stupid questions and beat the sh*t out of them
> 
> Temerdul: Why
> 
> Aliyas: We need a pecking order so it knows not to go after us
> 
> Temerdul: What the f*ck what kind of nature cr*p is this
> 
> Aliyas: We live in the so-called realm of death why are you so surprised
> 
> Temerdul: You're not even living creatures how could you you have instincts
> 
> Aliyas: You have to be proactive if you don't want to be attacked every single time
> 
> Temerdul: Your species is insane
> 
> Aliyas: Your species drives mine mad so deal with it


	5. Allostasis

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Having a baby is always a learning process for everyone, parent or not parent.
> 
> It is clear, however, that when the baby is a Voidspawn, the scale will get a little...near-apocalyptic. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Allostasis is the process of achieving stability, or homeostasis, through physiological or behavioral change. This is generally adaptive in the short term, and is essential in order to maintain internal viability amid changing conditions. Allostasis provides compensation for various problems; however, such allostatic states are inherently fragile, and decompensation can occur quickly.
> 
> A little more Temerdul backstory, a little world-building of the general vicinity, and more hunting.

Returning to a semblance of normalcy, or whatever may pass as routine for a Voidspawn and a nigh-immortal man, was...a trial, for all intents and purposes. Temerdul knows that having a baby is always a learning process for everyone, parent or not parent. He'd made a lot of observations over the centuries, mostly from a more distant standpoint, and certainly not so close as to be either parent or caretaker.

It is clear, however, that when the baby is a Voidspawn, the scale will get a little...near-apocalyptic. 

A bit more skewed towards the dramatic, perhaps, in exaggeration. But not too much to be considered frivolous. They certainly are not as explosive as a singer-type a crafter-type Voidspawn. And Amalla is apparently of the wrong side of 'polarization', from what he can discern from Aleas' explanations and observations of the Voidspawn being more of 'void' than of 'light', more endothermic than exothermic, the nature of their polarity taking more after it than its mate.

The human is truly not as familiar with the former compared to the latter. For the opposite nature, unleashing spark and lightning, growing to set the very air alight with one's mere presence? That he knows as intimately as the _aether_ rooted down into his bones. And if witnessing it in person once was lucky enough for most, then he had been blessed with more than a hundredfold. (Scion Primus, staging ground for most evocative of those sights, was gone and grave and dead and burned to glass and ashes. And a very welcome loss.)

The reminder leaves the taste of fire and blood in his mouth, an old cold ache deep within him. Impressions of more arbitrary and stoical days of execution after execution. Headless bodies in defaced temples and piles of bleached skulls atop altars of stone. Countless nights alight with fire and raving prayers, and rivers running thick with viscera. 

Temerdul does not know if he likes it or not. Amalla's existence is slowly but surely bringing up more ghosts than any traversing through old haunts ever did and in a much shorter time. And he likes the fact even less. But he digresses.

The old knight finds himself hunting for two now, maybe more, as Amalla makes short work of his smuggled stock of fresh (and not frozen) meat. And is told that it is rather typical for this early stage of its development, to be a voracious gaping maw. Supposedly. He does not find it amusing, despite how Aleas finds it.

"This is just...this is ridiculous," he finds himself huffing at the Voidspawn one day, another fresh carcass slung over his shoulder and a few more hanging by the hooked claws at the ends of Aleas' many tentacle-tails. Amalla is in a corner carefully carving out and categorizing innards according to preference, blood streaks sluggishly freezing on their face and claws. 

It is rather very ironic, that a creature of the Void requires more living nourishment than the living being in the same vicinity. More than all six and a half feet and several additional inches of Temerdul, who without his gear: ice cleats, armor, under-layers, weapons and all, weighs more than two hundred and fifty pounds of hard muscle.

Grinding, ear-bleeding noises punctuated by thunderous shots was the healer's answer, its version of laughter. The world rings, quakes and turns grey for a few moments and the human stabilizes himself, adjusting to the sudden damage to his middle and inner ears. He props himself to the wall, fighting vertigo, and Aleas waits for its companion's regeneration to take effect.

"I look forward to the day Amalla hunts proper," the Voidspawn speaks in what could pass as a teasing drawl, and Temerdul's snippy retort dies into a wheeze. Just how in the Ten Hells will he be able to sneak in more live animals? Surely the Voidspawn doesn't expect him to do it alone?

And as if reading his mind, Aleas continues, "One of us must remain, to keep an eye on them, indubitably. And as I have been delayed in my research, the task therefore falls to you."

Of course. What a surprise. "Absolutely splendid," the human growls.

His companion gives him the mockery of a smile, grotesquely wide and full of razor-sharp teeth.

#

For the first few weeks Amalla's share of prey consists completely of herbivores, always larger than human-sized and incapacitated in some way after the Voidspawn slips up the first few times and comes after Temerdul instead of their quarry. The worst of the damages are the several broken ribs and the human's near disembowelment after they try to go after his liver first. 

After that the next attempts consist of him being forced to duck and dodge as Amalla tries beheading or breaking his neck _before_ going after his center mass. And the man has to admit that their efforts are impressive, even if he had to suffer having his rib-cage opened up or smashed in, or getting a few concussions and neck cuts along the way.

Then a few more weeks after, the selection moved from injured to whole and hale, stacking up in natural and adaptive defenses. As they improved in their hunting skills, Aleas makes things interesting. Its offspring's selection of prey become smaller, closer to human size, faster, and smarter. Sometimes the healer will break pattern and occasionally let loose something very small, or cold-blooded or even a predator.

And Amalla...Amalla loves the struggles, the new challenging nature of the hunts. They fling themselves forward with as much enthusiasm as possible for their species (which isn't much expression-wise), and proves to be very much a killer at core. Or a researcher at heart, like their parent. 

Temerdul cannot actually tell if their interest was born of the hunt or born of learning something new. Maybe even both.

He finds their eagerness contagious all the same.

#

The research compound that Aleas holed itself in, once a nebulously notorious black site known only from hearsay, is the only aberration on the surface of the desolate beauty of Luna Hydrus, the largest, most stable (possibly Voidspawn crafter-created) satellite of Scion Tertius, third world in the Scion Victus star system.

(The planet was originally Scion Sextus, until the Voidspawn who initially stayed there switched the two planet's positions for some unknown reason several aeons ago. Aleas cannot exactly go around asking why. Temerdul doesn't want to know why. Comprehending a Voidspawn's thought process is a tried and true path to madness. There was a reason why he was alone before encountering Aleas.)

Parts of the labyrinthine facility, mostly the outer administration offices, containment wings, lower-risk prisons and attached barracks, had collapsed due to natural causes or battle and have been breached by the snow and cold, a testament to both the ravages of time and nature's rage. And now, those outer remnants of the so-called Pit (or the Serpent's Maw, depending on which side of the Scion Victus interplanetary civil war* you were on) are Amalla's new playground.

The newborn—though no longer, truly, but proper terms for Voidspawn offspring do not exist—lurks somewhere within the extensive venting systems, slowly stalking their prey with a practiced patience. Their current quarry: the _sǣspere_, a large, strong, ursine creature native to Scion Tertius' icy waters. 

Its thick fur, even thicker skin and blubber, claws, teeth, horns, and powerful tail, fortunately makes it a formidable and engaging prey for Amalla.

Neither Temerdul nor Aleas brought it here. (He checked; the latter was often too preoccupied by a project or another.)

And sǣspere had gone extinct for a long time now, wiped out not long after Tertius had been colonized. 

Which leaves a third party as the only culprit.

Either Aleas has omitted something important again, or the healer had more connections than he thought, or—it doesn't matter. Someone else knows where they are, and Aleas isn't doing anything about it.

He would have been in a bad state had this happened centuries ago, hands itching for his executioner's sword, well-earned paranoia pushing him to keep an extra eye on the healer (more than he already does).

But now...

They're are not friends, he and Aleas. Not truly. Companions under almost similar circumstances, certainly, just enough to watch each other's backs. But not really friends.

It's truly surprising why he's allowing things to go this far.

Temerdul is going to pay for his carelessness (and his trust) one day, he is certain of it. But, for now, he lets it go. A mystery for another time.

He has more important things to do.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Scion Victus interplanetary civil war * - better known as the War of Light and Shadow; several phases of open, proxy and secret wars between the Knights of the Black Sun/First Sons of Scion (Scion Secundus), the Dragon Merchant Lords (Scion Quartus), and the Knights of the Silver Phoenix (Scion Quintus). 
> 
> sǣspere - 'sea spear'; an carnivorous creature native to Scion Tertius that resembles a strange cross between a seal, narwhal, and polar bear.
> 
> And yes, the sǣspere is technically a sea unicorn (or meat-eating horned hippocampus, if you want to be specific).


	6. Circadian

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Such are the trials of co-parenthood."   
"That is complete nonsense and you know it."
> 
>   
Or: In which Temerdul cracks, Aleas sucks at apologies, and Amalla doesn't show up. Really.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The circadian clock, a rhythm with a period of around 24 hours, determines the time that an animal goes to sleep or knows when it is time to sleep. This is synchronized to the movement of the sun and triggers sleep for both diurnal and nocturnal creatures, a state where they exhibit altered consciousness, homeostatic regulation, or a reduction in the responses to changes in external stimuli.

It happens some two or three months into their new routine, but when exactly it started is near impossible to pinpoint. He can only recall the day that ended in a quarrel like any they had before, that day Aleas first suspected something may be amiss. 

But for Temerdul, it was the breaking point after weeks of enduring the slow strangulation of stress, of trying to feign nonchalance on Aleas' mysterious contact, of not succumbing to old paranoias. He'd always been a bad liar, especially to himself. 

The day starts as thus.

Temerdul sits backwards on the seat of monitoring station, arms folded and resting where the back of the revolving chair had been broken off. Meanwhile, he keeps an eye for traces (or lack thereof) of Amalla's progress in facility 35-G. The Voidspawn disappeared off camera some ten minutes in, and the occasional odd lens shadow and screen static are the only indication of their presense as they take advantage of the ventilation system.

Amalla gets rid of their first quarry via ambush and tricks the second into a fatal encounter with the third, the latter of which they lead on a merry chase through a series of adjacent rooms. The beast of the day is some eyeless pack predator of mixed reptilian and mammalian traits which Temerdul cannot remember the name of for the life of him, for what was the point of knowing the name of some creature that would not live within the next lunar cycle anyway— 

"_Huledyr_ from Eucanus Alpha, particularly the Kur strain," Aleas interjects, slithering from nowhere and nearly giving him a heart attack.

Willing his nerves to calm down, Temerdul remarks a bit hypocritically, "Those are invasive and illegal to take off the planet."

"All the better, and I know a reputable seller who shares my sentiments." The Voidspawn waves one of its tentacle tails at him, the long curved claw at the end tracing a particular hand sign, and the human grumbles in recognition.

"The Thunder of the Mystics...formerly of the Eucanus Storm fleet. You actually _negotiated_ with space pirates."

"You make it sound as if I was in peril," Aleas huffs. "The Vulux are self-employed canidide privateers."

"Pirates. And occasionally traffickers who would turn their own wards over if the reward is high enough, such as, let's say...the secret to immortality."

Aleas cocks its head and blinks. "That sounds rather specific." It always did find his history interesting, what crumbs Temerdul is willing to part with anyhow. 

"Some five hundred years ago," Temerdul waves off. "A previous captain of that same pirate fleet broke Haven Code trying to trade me for what secrets my potential buyer will pry out of me. Half the crew mutinied, and I got dropped off without any repercussions from the fleet master." 

"After you executed the captain and half the crew."

"After I executed the captain and half the crew," he repeats, straightening up. "Physical transactions always are risky, face-to-face or otherwise. What if you got tracked? _Nihdraukr_," Temerdul carefully enunciates the local term for Aleas' kind, "like you are very rarely sighted out of the Void. Your kind socialize even less."

"Because there are almost never any witnesses left when we do." Aleas makes a clicking sound using its claws, bored. "Risky. Says the wanted fugitive."

"Says the exile and suspected bio-terrorist."

"Oh, so you have been keeping an ear around," comes the bland remark. 

"Consorting with criminals tends to implicate one as if they are similar."

"I met you the same way, did I not?"

"That was different and you know it," the knight says hotly, turning on his heels to the other. Temerdul cannot recall when he left his seat, but he is on a roll now. "It's not _you_ I'm worried for. What of Amalla? Should circumstances force either of us to disappear..." he trails of.

Aleas blinks once, slowly, reassessing its companion. Then a rumbling resonates from the many fin-like spines on its back upwards, its posture realigning in a different crooked pattern. The human is reminded of something between a long-tailed raptor and a cephalopod, scoping for a new angle. To strike or to flee, maybe even both. "Yes. Of course I am well aware of my priorities. But there are forces at work beyond the scope of your comprehension."

Temerdul is sure he missed something vital there, having never witnessed that particular reaction from Aleas in all their decades of association, but what exactly it meant he could not say. "And there are those well beyond your power and experience. You are well aware I am very much older than you think."

"And I do acquiesce to your wisdom."

"Only when it serves your purposes, you mean." Temerdul sighs, "Aleas, damn it. At least count this as a tie."

"That still puts me forward at three hundred and seventy-four points in our arguments."

"To quote Ceidemos: Fuck. You."

"I do not function that way. But 'fuck you' too." Then Aleas pauses, weighing Temerdul's words. "I do not recognize this...Ceidemos, though the name seems promising. Who is he?"

"No one relevant," the knight snaps, clearly rattled at having said the name. Then he exhales tiredly, squeezing the bridge of his nose. "I apologise. We really shouldn't be fighting."

"Oh," comes bark of laughter, and the unsurprisingly painful wince from the human that follows. "On the contrary, we should be doing this more often. The cage fever is clearly affecting you."

Temerdul cringes in distaste. "I am not trapped in a cage."

"Physically no," Aleas says. "But observations show you never do well with company for prolonged periods of time...and commitments are their own chains."

"I certainly noticed you've been trying your best to inconvenience me." 

"Such are the trials of co-parenthood."

"That is complete nonsense and you know it." Temerdul releases another sigh, equal parts in agreement and exasperation. "I dislike the idea, but I don't want to leave all the same. However, we cannot go on at each other's throats like this. You and I...clearly need some space from each other. You cannot poke at me like one of your experiments because you are bored."

"I poke and prod at everyone and everything, _Tem'dul_, whether they require it or not."

Gritting his teeth, Temerdul fights the urge to toss his sword, preferably at it. Or maybe dive off of a cliff. "Which is. Not. Helping. Any of us right now."

A stray glance at one of the monitors near his elbow show quarry number three darting around a corner, only to slip on a strange sheet of ice and be granted a gruesome death by impalement onto the serrated ends of some shredded structural pillars. The monitor beside it shows a sign pointing towards the Engineering bay; another, a glimpse of an iridescent black form slipping back in the ceiling, then static. Amalla forgoes feeding on the corpse; not something it has done before.

"Very well then," Aleas mutters. "It is about time for a shift in diet for Amalla, anyhow. Living creatures can only contain so much metal and minerals."

Temerdul thinks of a burning continent several lifetimes ago and an offering of raw spleen several months back, and realizes all _nihdraukr_ must have shit taste in apologies. It's a species-specific _thing_ and utterly horrifying. "Ah...I might go to a manifactorium in Scion Quartus in a few days, see what they have there."

Aleas hums, looking through the northwest wall thoughtfully. Right where Amalla stalks in silence, as if a wraith.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> huledyr - "cave beast"; eyeless pack predator covered with tough scaly hide or spines depending on whether the planet orbits Eucanus Alpha or Beta; native to the Eucanus binary star system
> 
> nihdraukr - niht (night) + draugr (ghost/spirit/revenant)
> 
> In a nutshell...
> 
> Temerdul: I'm not hearing an apology.
> 
> Aleas *smugly gives chores list*
> 
> Temerdul: Are you kidding me...damnit, fine.


End file.
